You are NOT in control...

Sunday morning worship regularly reminds me that I am NOT in control - which is a good but not always an easy truth to affirm - and it happens in so many ways. Sometimes someone will make a bone-headed announcement full of dreadful theology and unhelpful ideas, other times I will spontaneously find myself going down a side road in my message only to discover too late that I shouldn't have made the turn. From time to time a person will hear something that was never intended - and most likely never said - and then there are the outright interruptions that throw everything in worship up in the air.

+ For example, early in ministry I shared some socio-economic observations about shepherds one Christmas Eve - something about how they were often ritually unclean and considered less than socially desirable because they worked "the third shift" - only to be scolded for picking on people who have to work swing shift to keep their families fed. I thought I was being in solidarity but...

+ Same thing happened in Arizona when talking about Christ's radical inclusion of women: I referenced three women who would be considered outsiders in traditional society but who were celebrated in the ministry of Jesus only to be told that I needed to get over my sexism and honor the important contributions that women make in the church. "Men aren't the ONLY important ones, you know?"

+ And then there was the time one of my early bands was leading a gospel tune and one of the local street people came in - he was about 6'4" and looked (and smelled) like John the Baptist - as he marched down the center aisle before parking himself on the floor in front of the band. We finished the song and he said: "Do you KNOW when Christ is coming again?" Good question, I thought, although I wasn't prepared to talk about it then so I said, "Karl, how about we talk about this after worship?" At which point he jumped up straight up into the air - from the floor -shook his fist at me and screamed: "Sinner, sinner" before storming away. I thought he was going to hit me with one of his huge, ham hock fists... but he just shouted and fled out the back door.

Today was a gift - my friend Bert was a spirit-filled preacher - and together with my musician friends and liturgist they brought great skill and verve to the mix. It was a feast. And when I asked one of the children what she thought a worship stole was all about she paused, smiled and said, "It is a scarf." And when asked how you would wear it, she said, "Like this..." and tossed it jauntily over her shoulder making a true liturgical fashion statement.

So, as another Sabbath comes to a close, and I recall ALL the times I have been reminded that I am not in control, I give thanks to God. Ever so slowly I am learning that my job is to invite folks towards the grace of God's feast. I can do some training and offer lots of prayer, but the rest is not up to me. Like the movie, "Babette's Feast," teaches: we are here to prepare and invite and then trust that God will do the rest. Lord, I believe... help my disbelief, too.